An Image of Revenge
by indulgence in life
Summary: He could feel his breath rushing out his body in harsh pants. The sting didn't matter. He had to continue running. He didn't have a choice. He had to go on. Implied violence and death.


_Cruelty has a Human Heart_

_And Jealousy a Human Face_

_Terror the Human Form Divine_

_And Secrecy, the Human Dress_

_ \- A Divine Image by William Blake_

* * *

He could feel his breath rushing out his body in harsh pants. The sting didn't matter. He had to continue running. He didn't have a choice. He had to go on.

Keep running.

Keep moving.

Keep chasing.

The edges of his cloak rippled around his feet, the rest billowing behind him. He was chasing a ghost. A slim figure swathed in black that turned every corner just moments after he reached every alley.

He could feel his muscles were beginning to ignite with the aching sensation that he had grown unfamiliar with over the last few months. He was going to tire soon. He could feel it in his numbing muscles. He couldn't tell exactly how long he had been running for. His partner had long since been left behind him. He hoped she had thought to corner this person on the other end of these alleyways. He had run them countless times before. They all had one common meeting point.

He had taken up chase after he had seen the splashes of blood that stained the woman's fingers. He knew it was a woman. Not many men had black hair that long, none had perfectly kept nails like hers. He didn't know how she was managing to run as fast as she was for as long as she was.

Maybe she wasn't human.

No, she would never have been wandering near wizarding folk if she hadn't been a witch. He was certain of that much. He did wonder why she had done whatever she had done so messily. Most used their wands to kill, and he knew she had killed, because it was less easily traceable to the killer. The wand could have been stolen, after all.

The buildings opened up to a clear alley now. He could see the figure still had some distance to run before she could disappear again.

He now had the one chance he had been waiting for. He knew he would be too tired to continue for much longer. He didn't know if there was backup on the way or not. He couldn't risk it.

"Stupefy!"

His aim was true. The figure stilled, crashing to the ground inches away from where she the spell hit her.

His legs finally slowed. He leaned against the wall next to him as he attempted to catch his breath. His eyes still eyeing the body that lay still on the floor as if expecting her to somehow move.

His partner came running towards him a moment later. The unruly strands of her hair sticking to her forehead as she rested her hand on the opposite wall.

"Damn, you run fast, old man. So is this who you had been chasing after for the last half hour?" she managed to gasp out.

He scowled but nodded, still unable to speak.

"Let's take her back to the department so we can decide what to do with her."

He reached into his cloak for one of the portkeys he always kept on him, and moved closer to the unconscious woman. He grabbed her arm and held onto one end of the piece of string, offering his partner the other end which was quickly grabbed, before all three disappeared.

* * *

"He was so scared, so very, very scared. I could see it in his eyes. It hadn't mattered. She hadn't cared. She was too selfish, too jealous to realize that he had never been hers."

The woman was half-laughing, half-sobbing. Her black hair lay in an untidy mess of vine-like tangles around her face. Her shaking hands moved jerkily along the bottom of her eyes, collecting whatever moisture she managed to pool there and leaving haunting red trails in their wake.

"She hadn't heard me open the door, or enter the room. I would have saved him. I would have! I only needed to be a there moment earlier, just a moment and he would still be alive."

He exchanged glances with the only other person still in the office, his partner, who raised her eyebrows at him. She was obviously not going to be of any use.

"So what happened next?"

The woman let out a bark of harsh laughter, insanity ringing clear within its jagged syllables. Her eyes alighted with malice as she drew her body up within the chair she was spelled into. She wore her pride next to her madness like a badge of honour.

"She killed him. I simply returned the favour, with a _torturously_ slow patience."

Her grin grew larger as she caught sight of the lingering blood on her hands. The blood wasn't hers. They had found that soon enough, as the woman had no physical injuries. No scars marred her skin. Her clothing hosted no rips or tears.

He was starting to regret even chasing this woman right now. He was at a loss with what to do with her. St. Mungo's had seemed like a good option, until they had realized the danger she would pose to the Healers and other patients. Azkaban was a prison used for the worst criminals, not for slightly insane women who were hell-bent on revenge over a dead man. Besides, they would never be able to get her to Azkaban by the end of the night even if they wanted to.

"Do you regret it?"

It was the only question left to ask. It seemed almost silly from all he had heard. He knew the answer before the question had even completely left his lips. Her response did not disappoint.

Her eyes sparkled with cruel rage as she strained out of the chair in bitter anger. Her muscles were tensed and her expression had melded into something that was frightfully ugly and malicious.

"Regret it? Never! She deserved every second of it, and more! I regret not drawing out her death until she was begging for it!" Her voice rose with every word she spoke, until it no longer simply tickled the edges of their hearing but completely filled the room with a proud voice. He was grateful for the silencing charms that surrounded their department at that point.

"I REGRET NOT-"

Her voice fell silent as her body slackened against the chair. He turned to his partner questioningly.

"I'm sorry. She was starting to get on my nerves. I think I understood that she regretted not making it worse for this other woman the _first_ three times."

He sighed, shaking his head as his partner left the room. He was silently glad that he had not been forced to stun the woman himself. He was the senior of the two of them, and was supposed to know better. It didn't mean that he had to waken the already stunned woman. Surely she could just be left as she was for a couple hours?

He _really_ didn't think he would be able to manage another few minutes in her presence that night.

Levitating the woman's body into one of the cells, he sighed in relief at the end of a very long and tiring day. He locked the cell, adding a couple of extra wards to be careful. He didn't need her escaping at some point in the night and wrecking more havoc. Merlin knows she had created enough chaos already.

They would have to go looking for two bodies tomorrow. He definitely wasn't looking forward to that.

For now, though, it was finally time to go home.

* * *

AN: Written for Caerphilly Catapults Round 10 Chaser 1

Optional prompts: A Divine Image by William Blake (poem), ghost (word), tickled (word)


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